


Rectified

by RulerOfTravels



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Oral Sex, S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RulerOfTravels/pseuds/RulerOfTravels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clu remembers some of his first experiences with Rinzler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rectified

**Author's Note:**

> Moved from my account on FanFiction.net, and revised 3/22/14.

When I chose to change the game, I was already stronger than Flynn could ever guess. he had his head in the clouds, while I was creating the perfect system. my work was beautiful: order, progress, and discipline, rising out of the clean lines of the grid.  
But Flynn was blinded by the ISOs and their chaos. He saw beauty in the wrong places, and he willingly forgot his real purpose.

The day I rectified Tron, he was fighting as hard as he could. I should've known he'd be far more difficult to take down than any standard security program. He might be a deprecated program, but he sure had fire in him. And so loyal, fighting for his beloved user. Tron took out my sentries like they were Disc War newbies. And in the chaos of the moment, Flynn got away from me.

Flynn was a user, and true to his title, he used Tron. He took that program for granted, acting like he was nothing special. What an odd relationship they had. In the end, Flynn just left Tron to certain de-resolution, with barely a second glance.

Flynn... He was corrupted. And to think he was someone I used to admire, who used to teach me the wisdom of the users-- nothing but his own foolish ideologies. I let my faith in the users burn and die. Flynn became a deceiver, a liar, and a coward. He had created me for something important, something huge and awe-inspiring. But I was always a third wheel when it came to him and Tron.  
Flynn got bored, and left me alone. And then, when I became stronger without him, he ran from me, like a child, casting his responsibilities aside.

But he left me Tron.

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

I still wonder, what did he ever see in Flynn?

Sometimes I'm content not to ask myself, not to question it, and just accept things for what they are. He loves that I look exactly like Flynn, down to every detail. And sometimes that's all that matters.

When we're together and he stays still, and he just stares at me from within his helmet. He loves just looking at me. I can tell really he gets off from my looks, maybe even more than he does from my body.

I wonder how that's different from what they had. The sex, I mean. It kind of disgusts me to think about Tron and Flynn in the past, messing around back in their old system... But I'm the one reaping the benefits of that relationship, now. Though I can't help but try to imagine what it was like, with Flynn and him. I'm guessing it was mostly soft, and tender. He likes it when I'm kind in that way. Soft touches, smiles, slow and deep.

But is that what he truly wants from me? I've also been very rough with him at times, and he certainly responds. It's funny. It's not as if I can ask Tron about that part of his past... he's under my control, now, and I doubt he'd be able to form the right words, even if he had direct access to those memories. He no longer fights. I now control nearly all of his actions, so who knows what he really thinks inside that helmet?  
When he's not under my direct control, his actions and reactions tell all. I can read him so well. I suspect that he enjoys the occasional harsh treatment because of his devotion to me, and the softer moments because of his memories of Flynn. He seems to love us both... and I find that I'm okay with that. Because he now belongs to me.

I control him with my own thoughts, sometimes, and I make him my puppet in Disc Wars. Although he's beautiful when at my behest... there's something about letting him loose, giving him a little more freedom, and seeing he's mine even then, that really makes it for me. I know him. I can feel if his eyes are on me, and can acknowledge him even if I can't meet his gaze directly. He always waits for some expression, some sign from me. And I humor him. I smile. He loves it when I smile.

He makes the most interesting sounds... usually a kind of purring. A low, continuous clicking that has become a very comfortable sound for me. But sometimes he'll also whimper a bit in his way, or his purr will get lower and faster, more like a growl.  
Only I have ever achieved those sounds from him. They are special. He's my instrument. If I let out a contented groan while he's touching me, sometimes it's enough to make him moan. It's a strange, soft, distorted sound.

His circuits glow brighter when I touch him. Sometimes he'll fight it a little, or try to turn away from me. But I can see him light up, and I know he wants me. Or maybe, not me, exactly... he wants Flynn. And I can give him that.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

Originally, I had planned to force him into my bed. It was soon after I rectified him... He was my new acquisition, and he was perfect, and I wanted him. I'd have taken him whether he consented or not. But it turns out I never had to push. He willingly became mine.

I remember how I made him overload, the first time I experienced him. He was sitting on my throne, and I was on my knees before him... I'm not ashamed to admit it. I whispered to him occasionally during, smiling and promising him many pleasurable things to come. I really indulged myself... I trusted him, confided in him these illicit hopes and secrets. I even offered myself to him.  
I couldn't have guessed how much he'd respond. My jaw was barely tired when he overloaded against my tongue. He cried out to me, a high, gurgling electric growl, his red-glowing circuits fluttering back and forth between bright and dim, as he shuddered and convulsed, clutching my head gently against his lap. I heard him gasping, and then a low, bass hum accompanied his fainting.

It took him nearly half a millicycle to reboot, and by then I was itching to try him again. If he overloaded that hard that quickly, from just my mouth and my voice... He really was a rare treasure. My mind spun with all the possibilities.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

I can recall, to nearly exact detail, what it was like when I first let him have me. It was right after his first Disc Wars victory. I had watched him decimate his opponents as Rinzler, dispatching each and every one with a fluid, predatory grace. His sure feet, his jumps and twirls and stretches, the elegant tilts and turns of his head, his deadly dual-discs' edges burning through the air. His gleaming red circuits glowing brightly, a stark contrast against the dark blue surroundings. All to the sounds of de-rezzed material showering down on his strong, lithe form.

Just watching him, soon had me gripping my eager response beneath my cloak. I had to tint the windows of my throne room for privacy. It was necessary to overload once even before the final round of 'Wars, or I never would've stood a chance against him later.

The 'Wars ended when he had beaten every other fighter in the arena that day, and he was titled the new Champion of Disc Wars, to thunderous applause. I asked him up to my throne room, and ordered my sentries not to disturb us. They're not the most competent programs... but they follow orders without question.  
As soon as he entered the room, I barely had the composure to issue even that simple command, and then lock the door with the touch of a panel.

My helmet was on-- I was hiding. I was still flushed and weakened, a fact that I managed to conceal from my sentries easily, but not from Tron. I was standing next to my throne, all but visibly shaking. I resisted the urge to reach out and steady myself on an armrest. I swallowed back my nerves, but was unable to speak. I just stared at him, my mouth slightly open, my chest tight. He had such an effect on me. He stood by the door where he entered, arms at his sides, looking at once very tense and quite relaxed, his usual mysterious and frightening stance. His face, the blank, black shine of his helmet, was turned right at me. The slow clicking emanating from him continuously.

When he moved, it was straight at me, no hesitation, no questions. I remember stepping back a pace in fear. He grabbed me by the shoulders, rather gently actually, and pulled off my cloak. His gloved fingers brushed over the front of my helmet, and I retracted it with a thought. My eyes closed and my lips parted in pleasure as his hand cradled the side of my face, warm. I gasped softly, and felt him press himself against me. The smooth leathery material that is so common in the grid, suddenly seemed to exciting and interesting, a new tactile experience. I imagined that I could smell the recently derezzed victims on him, feel the destructive power in those hands. My mind seemed to melt under his touch, so strong was my desire to submit to him.

And I did. He turned me around so I was facing away from him, then he lowered me to the floor, one hand on my hip, lifting slightly, the other between my shoulder blades, pushing me down. I heard his circuits power up, heard the soft sliding of hidden compartments on his body. My own systems responded instantly and opened without my conscious command. He wasted no time, his hand on my hip curling underneath me and touching me for the first time. I drew in a sharp breath, almost a whimper, and clawed at the floor. I arched my back for him, and gyrated my hips against his grip, the teasing friction driving me crazy. I was shameless at his touch, openly expressing my need.

He fed off of my energy, his low purring turning into a growl, and he draped his body over mine. I never knew the back side of my body could feel such heat, such tingling, as his weight settled onto my back. And when I opened for him he entered me, slowly and perfectly, causing a surge in my circuits that threatened to make me collapse. He was inside me, joined with me, and I had never felt such contentment. He gripped my side with one hand, his other hand holding my thigh. As he rocked in and out, I swear there was electricity where our bodies met. Like he was stuck to me with static cling, his every movement against me causing sparks, inside and out.

He moaned, and it was a harsh, low whine, as he moved faster within me. I moaned in turn, panting, my face pressed against the floor. I was already nearly undone, brought closer to overload faster than I'd ever achieved on my own. Through the haze of pleasure, I could tell he was restraining himself. He was being kind to me, and I could sense that he didn't want to harm me. It annoyed me-- he was treating me like his old lover, the “fragile” user from his past.  
But I was made of different stuff. I wanted all of him, whatever that entailed.

I told him “more”, but he resisted. I had to beg him to thrust faster, harder, deeper. To grip my hips and claim me. I pleaded with him to just let me feel everything he had, asked him to let loose. After a few moments, my begging won out, and he ground out a moan as he really let go. His movements became rapid, erratic, and so very powerful. I felt a thrill of fear, accompanied by arousal on a higher plane. It made me dizzy. His purring turned to a constant, loud, low bass, its high frequency reverberating through my body, vibrating. I moaned higher and louder, whimpering for him, and lead him to grip my shaft at the exact right moment.

I yelped and gasped, crying out his name, as I overloaded in his grasp. My body tightening around him, clutching him inside me. He cried out then, a high, electric grind of passion, as his overload took a hold of him. I felt the shock of it rush through my circuits, both energizing and draining, making me shudder in its wake.

We stayed still and silent for a few moments, coasting on the high.  
Then slowly, he retracted, and lowered himself heavily to the floor. He lay beside me, his arms wrapped tight around me, his legs half-twined with mine. His growl returned to its relaxed low purr again, softly clicking. So sweet and warm, after such an intense experience. My eyes had been closed, but I opened them slowly and gazed at his helmet. I kissed the faceplate, and I smiled. That made him shiver, and he held me close, nuzzling his helmeted face against my neck and shoulder. I fell asleep like that, to the sound of his purring, the two of us entwined on the floor, never even thinking to move to my chair or bed. In his arms, I felt perfectly content.


End file.
